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2013.04.23 - A Gathering of Ninja
Queens, New York. Late evening. The sun is starting to dip down below the skyline, shedding a sickly orange glow across the city streets. Queens is a melting pot of cultures, people busy rushing to and fro, engrossed in their own problems. If she were the sort to reflect on such things, Elektra would be impressed with how easy it is for most to ignore what they do not want to see; but she is not. She simply accepts it as a fact of life. People are people the world over, no different here than in a thousand other places. Except, perhaps, that here, they do seem more preoccupied by people with a prediliction for brightly colored spandex. She stands on a rooftop, overlooking the city street below. Red outfit blending with the dim orange of the dying day. Then, she looks up. Her eyes focus in the distance-- There is a breeze that blows through the street, whipping up coats. It sends the evening edition of the newspapers scattering from a seller's stall, yet somehow his cry out of outrage seems muted. It is the scent that transports her. Cherry blossoms, steel, and blood. It is a breeze not of this land, and it brings with it a dangerous portent. One that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. There is a whisper on the breeze, faint, almost - almost, inaudible... but what language it speaks, what voice it is using, remains, for the moment, a puzzling susurrus. Brightly colored spandex, hell yeah! Shh! That was part of her narrative dialogue! We aren't supposed to react to that! "Hey- some of us /rock/ the brightly coated spandex," Deadpool says aloud. He abruptly standing next to Elektra- Whee, we're a ninja! - and armed with just a stupid amount of weapons. As in, he looks like he's hauling around an arsenal more appropriate for Grand Theft Auto. "My, aren't we the brooding hotty," Deadpool admires, arms folded across his chest. "Do you have, like, that female fantasy armor thing going? Or do you typically wear something from Victoria's Secret when you're out skulking around the city, doing ninjette things?" One thing that lets people sleep tight at night, that lets innocence persist? They don't know just how often shit from beyond threatens the 'burbs, the city, the Earth, bleedin' reality itself on a week to week basis. Folks say that New York never sleeps, and maybe that's true.. but too often it's the devils and their demons that are taking the initiative; burning midnight oil that reaks of sulfur. Or otherworldly cherry blossoms and death... There's no yellow spandex involved in the Wolverine's hunt as the sun goes down, he mingles and meanders up streets that are still too busy for the showdown he suspects is coming. The diminutive mutant's features are shadowed by the setting sun over the half-lowered, wide brim of an old straw cowboy hat, its brim fraying; its decorative silver medallion burnished and faded with time. It matches the road-weary red and black flannel and dark jeans that round out the ensemble. The only piece chosen for its quality, subtle as that may be, are the black shit-kickers on the Canuck's feet. As the breeze shifts, Logan flows with it. Natural, a sidestep like a shrug, like the passage of a silent predator-- even someone looking right at him would be hard pressed to track him as he crosses behind an oblivious pedestrian. In the wake of a turning car, the feral mutant crosses up an alleyway, conducting a suspiciously precise patrol. A frown creases Wolverine's brow as he pauses ever so slightly to scan upwards, along the skyline, then back to the road ahead. His pace never quickens-- not yet. He remains subtly in cover, under the proverbial radar from point to point... unlike certain mutant bioweapons in the area. On the streets below a man in a green-grey trenchcoat and fedora is speaking Tibetan to a food cart vendor, apparently getting nowhere in his conversaton. This could be because the photocopied drawing he is waving at the man is covered in Japanese characters. Vic Sage doesn't speak Japanese. Yet he was able to follow an obscure trail of ancient texts, websites, and 'gargoyles' in shoppe windows from Hell's Kitchen, across the East River into Queens anyway. The reporter and detective of the weird stops in his argument as the breeze hits his nostrils - and his other awareness. Tipping his har to the man, Sage similarly disappears into an alley and starts a pyposeful walk in the shadows. A cloud of yellow smoke swallows him up. When it clears, his gone - at least from ground level What kind of man looks for ninjas without speaking Japanese? What kind of man looks for ninjas at all? That's The Question. At first, Elektra seems to ignore Deadpool - for almost a full second after he addresses her, she doesn't even move. Then, there is a flash of steel behind her, and she turns. A sai - was that in her hand a moment ago? - flashes out, and spins. Three shuriken are sent hurtling towards her, but none find their mark. The first is deflected high into the sky, spiraling away into the distance. The second glances off the rooftop below, sparking briefly in the growing darkness. The last is sent with almost unbelievable precision, curling and aiming directly between Deadpool's eyes. "You should go." Elektra says, "It is not safe." The trio of beings responsible for this sudden attack are now visible at the far end of the rooftop. Three of them, figures wrapped in dark crimson cloth. Now that their initial attack has failed, they are drawing long, curved katanas. Elektra does not seem overly concerned. Below, in Logan's alleyway, the shadows are alive. Thankfully, only metaphorically. But there is a rustle of movement, and above, glimpses of more - a fluttering of red cloth, the darkness momentarily deeper than it ought to have been. Nothing seems to have noticed him yet... but at the same time, there is a purpose to the movement of the half-glimpsed silhouettes which is no doubt familiar. They too are on the hunt. >Do you feel it?< Elektra's grip on her sai tightens, and she narrows her eyes. "OW." Deadpool grabs the shuriken with thumb and forefinger, and pulls it out of his skull. "Damn. Do you know how much that HURTS?!" Shuriken are the WORST. Deadpool rubs his brow irritably. "Oh wait, are those ninjas? Is this some crazy ninjas thing?!" Deadpool starts jumping up and down excitedly. "Oh man, I /never/ get to fight ninjas anymore! I mean, hardly ever. Except for last week. HEY GUYS!" he shouts, waving at the three onrushers. "ARE WE DOING THIS WHOLE HONORABLE FIGHT THING?" Deadpool draws a pair of just massively outsized pistols and promptly cuts loose with a burst of fire at the charging assassin on the left. "'CAUSE I TOTALLY DON'T DO THOSE!" Deadpool turns to Elektra. "So, duh, I'm totes gonna help the hot ninja lady. Because it'd really compromise the narrative discourse if I was hanging out with these guys." Yeah! They didn't even yell 'Ninja Sneak Attack' or anything! w And let's not forget the Inverse Ninja Law. There are more of them than there are of us. Ergo, they will be disposable mooks! "Yeah, outnumbered by ninjas is great!" Deadpool affirms to the voices in his head. "The more there are, my chances of surviving can only go up!" It's those fleeting shadows that Logan himself has been shadowing, the trail that led him block to block through the waning moments of the evening. It's a stalking methodology that he knows well.. if not quite akin to his own, it's been used to hunt him more than thrice. There's a flash of.. concern(?) that touches the stern-faced runt's features as he scans the bordering walls, the ninja cultists that ascend them. He strikes silently from the rear, without hesitation; without mercy. The Hand are among Logan's most hated, hunted foes: there is no quarter for their on-the-job assassins, who come here stinking of murder. One set of claws come out with a *SNIKT* as he seeks to abruptly choke silent and impale the ninja abruptly and efficiently, twisting that claw trifecta back and forth in an effort to core the fellow, rather than leave him to bleed out.. before Logan's own path takes him towards the rooftops. Going to get hot up there early, this year, by his forecast. In counterpoint to the distinctly ninjaesque silhouttes barely visible among the roughtops, the incongrous shape of a coat, hat and suit trousers leaps and skips over he rooftops to where the Hand's numbers are converging on Elektra and Deadpool. The Question crouches on an aircoditioner unit. The grey-green now replaced by indigo and black, save for where the orange of his shirt and socks stand out. His tie flaps in the breeze just like the sahses of the scarlet clad ninja. His head is pinted at the roof "I hope my butting in, does not lower your chances, then," he says to Deadpool. "As for the shuriken, you must be careful or,- The Question looks up, letting the fading light fall on his missing face. "You'll put your eyes out." As the neearest ninja are momntarily shocked at the fact he heas no face, The Question leaps into the fray with a kung fu style that belies his Western pulp attrire. "I'm here to see a man about a demon." Elektra's irritation with Deadpool grows. "Quiet, idiot." She snarls, as the raport of gunfire and shouting rings out across the rooftop, "I do not want the authorities--" But what Elektra doesn't want the authorities doing remains a mystery, as she suddenly gasps, and lurches to the side. Compared to her effortlessly graceful parry, it is a clumsy, inelegant movement. >A pledge made in blood is broken with blood.< The ninja that Logan catches is gutted almost instantly, not least because he didn't realize who he was dealing with until it is much too late. The unfortunate man's eyes widen momentarily, and he tries to choke out a curse -- but his voice has already left him. The body crumbles away to black dust as Logan scales to the rooftop himself - even the weapons and clothing that the former ninja had leaving behind no trace that he was ever there. There is no shortage of others, though. The initial three were downed in a volley of oversized gunfire, evaporating away into nothingness, but even as The Question joins the fray, there seem to be more and more. Boiling up from the shadows, wielding steel with silent and murderous intent. The scent of cherry blossoms is thick on the air, cloying, and edged with a sharp tang of blood. Four fall on The Question, blades flashing out at where he was mere moments before, before they are met with vicious kicks and punches. Behind Elektra, another rises, and the swaying woman barely turns in time. Her sai catches the oncoming sword, but the blow staggers her, pain flashing across her features as she reels backwards. "I don't know. You don't look very Ninja to me," Deadpool tells Question suspiciously. He doesn't stop shooting the entire time, chatting casually as if they were shopping for groceries. One Hand who gets too close casually takes a kick to the groin and a pair of bullets to the chest. "And I checked your +sheet, and there's nothing really Ninja there, either." He casually guns down another Hand with brutally efficient economy of motion. "Are you going with the whole Tibetan Recluse thing? That's not really ninja. That's more... umm..." Jim Carrey in Ace Ventura: 2? "Yeah, more Ace Ventura," Deadpool supplies. "Can you commune with useless woodland animals? Is that your thing? Or are you just, like, butt ugly under that mask?" He pauses in the battle for a moment. "I mean, I can /totally/ sympathize with that." Elektra staggers and Deadpool takes a swaying half-circle step to cover her weak side, pistols blazing. One Hand lashes out with a katana, slashing into Deadpool's shoulder. The Merc with the Mouth takes the hit, then jams the pistol into the Hand's chin and pulls the trigger, with the usual gruesome results. Another blade sails in close to Elektra, and Deadpool simply grabs it with his gloved hand. Blood immediately flows. "Ow!" is his only complaint, and he simply shoots the would-be assassin twice, keeping his shoulderblades against Elektra's for support and mutual coverage. "I'm having fun! Are you guys having fun? Cause this is FUN!" Deadpool squeals. His pistols clatter open, and he promptly holsters them and transitions to his katanas. "It slices, it dices, it makes julienne fries in a snap! Hi, I'm Deadpool, and I'd like to take a few minutes of your time to talk to you about your whirling ginsu death swords! Tom, can you tell us more?" "Why, yes I can, Deadpool. You see, when you've got a Martial Arts score of 8 and twin katanas, you can cut anyone who comes near you into ribbons in just /seconds/!" "Well, that's great Tom!" Logan pauses only long enough to roll up the already bloody sleeves of his flannel shirt before he's in motion. It takes one bound to carry him up to a set of pipes running up to the second floor, and another to launch him from those, as they pop free of their moorings, to the fire escape above. It whines softly as the deceptively hefty little berserker hauls himself up with remarkable grace, sprinting up those steps as the shadowy Hand killers all but evaporate and drift upwards to their target. At least it keeps them focused, their numbers predictable: that the people on the roof aren't all dead already is all the story Logan needs as to their skills, even before he crests that rooftop. For a moment it's likely to seem like bad news, and worse news up there: half the freaking Clan convering on NYC to kill one woman, more ninja spilling over from below like Hell itself were bubbling over. Then, another beast the Hand fear and respect roars into the fray, suddenly making himself -very- known as he /launches/ from the top rail of the top section of fire escape just below the adjacent building's roof, hurling roughly three hundred pounds of snarling Canucklehead into the back ranks of the gathered ninja as they move in to surround their quarry. It's not the mass of hurtling Wolverine that's the real problem, however: it's the snikt of two sets of adamantium razors that lash outwards to both sides in wide arcs, spraying Logan's immediate surroundings with bloodspatter and the decaying demonic ash of deadly footsoldiers as fiery blue eyes narrow intently through the haze of battle and mayhem. The Question is confused by Deadpolls rant, but he says nothing. There are too many ninjas. He's better than people think, but they have numbers and are out to kill. The Question generally tries to avoid that, but he's starting to...question the wisdom of that strategy here. With his focus on avoiding deadly weapons, The Question takes his share of punches, kicks and elbows. At one pont his hat falls off. When he bends to pick it up two of the Hand actually stab each other. The question somersaults over to put his back to Elektra and Deadpool in a defensive formation. His coat and suit are skewed and his coat is slashed. The Question reches into his pocket and pulls out a small paper bag. He flings its contents across the roof attacking the Hand with - lemon sour hard candy. Because that's what mouthless private eyes eat all the time. As the uncostumed Wolverine make's himself known, The Question asks between punches, "Would anyone know how we circumvent the endless waves of grunts, and" he gives Deadpool a blank look " get them to summon the boss?" Maybe video game paralance will work with the weapon-clad wackjob. The Hand. There are many rumors that surround the organization of ninja that seem to just come and go from whenever and wherever they please. They are what they are and the most important factor of what they are, in relation to certain organizations, is that they are: Trouble. When there is trouble of the ninja variety, there happens to be a special unit that can be deployed to neutralize ninjatic threats. Unfortunately, that unit is in Japan at the present time. As the Hand continues to arrive and disappear in various manners (the latter mostly with blood & smoke combinations from the way the Anti-Hand Brigade is dispatching them), more assistance seems to be coming from somewhere in the middle of the fray. There's a sudden shimmer of katana through the dim light of the sunset, as a member of the Hand finds himself taken down from behind. As he falls, a shadowy figure is already on the move, sending a hail of sub-machine gunfire in an arc around himself, claiming chest and head shots of the Hand that may be headed in his direction after his sudden arrival and dispatching of one of their ranks. As Hand bodies fall into smoke, blood splattering from chosen throat, chest and head areas, the shadowed figure is already leaping up into the air, somersaulting over a pair of Hand, dropping heavily with his heels into the back of their skulls, sending them forward and in the general direction of Deadpool and Elektra's Back 2 Back Battle Formation. Assist #1. The commando's body hits the rooftop, allowing him to roll backwards and back up on his feet, spinning on his heels and releasing no less than five bladed discs, hurling them in an outreaching arc around both Elektra and Deadpool, in a Hand hunting manner to clear out a couple of those that are getting punches in on The Question. Apparently, whoever this swift-moving masked warrior is, he's on the side of good. And has managed to figure out who is good and who is Hand in this madness on the rooftop. Assist #2. The moment those discs are free of his hands, though, the ninja soldier is turning and running towards the vicinity of Logan. His body is focused and driven, his katana held in both hands as he attempts to clear a small path. Slice, spin, kick, duck, over the back, somersault, jump kick, headbutt, slide and Hand falls or flail or miss in various instances, before the commando stands and looks directly at Logan, pointing at him with the blood dripping end of his Katana. Perhaps there's just a lull in the wave of Hand for this moment as he introduces himself with a simple, but expressive, nod of his head. Ladies & Ninja? Snake Eyes. Ah, who is good and who is not. Perhaps the greatest mystery to be solved on this rooftop - and one which may go completely unanswered. The pounding beat of Deadpool's guns and his ... incessant commentary add a fevered air for Elektra. How much of this is real, how much a surreal nightmare? She doesn't know. She does know that she can now detect the howling of sirens in the distance, and even in her current state, she knows she can't stay here. The aforementioned spandex-lovers won't be far behind, she's certain, and she is in no fit state to fight them as well. You cannot fight me. Your skills are nothing. I am the end of all flesh. Your flesh is soft. My claws are sharp. Elektra chokes, and blood wells in her mouth. Deadpool and Question have done a good job backing her up - there's not a mark on her - but she's still sluggish when another lashes out for her. She catches his sword with one sai, and slashes at his throat with the other, before coughing, and blood trickles from the corner of her mouth. The victim falls backwards, and she hurls her sai with surprising strength - catching another clean in the face just as he moves to get revenge on Question for being hit with a shower of lemon-flavored sugar. Thankfully, that is the moment that Logan makes his entrance. The angry mutant hits the back of the ninja army like a wrecking ball hitting a haystack. Ninjas scatter, confused, and regroup as best they can. The Hand do not fear death. They do not feel pain. They are implacable enemies - but they are not, for all they might profess that they are, invincible. Snake Eyes hits at just the right moment, and in the aftermath of the explosive entrance, there is indeed a lull. The Beast had not expected such fierce resistance. The Betrayer. The Madman. The Faceless. The Voiceless. The Wolf. Any one of these alone would be a challenge - but The Beast refuses to be bowed. All flesh will fall. ~DESTROY THEM~ Joined in battle, all there hear the voice of the demon on the breeze - not in any mortal tongue, but a dark hiss that transcends language and reverates in the pit of the stomach. Still engaged in battle, it is difficult to be sure, but after the voice turns outwards, no longer capable of assaulting her directly, that is when Elektra laughs - a high pitched, disconcerting noise through blood-stained teeth. The authorities are coming. Others who wish to capture her may follow on their heels - or already be here, for all she knows. But without the phantom claws raking in her gut, she is free to fight once more. As the next ninja to assault her discovers, when she plunges her hand into his chest, and shows him his heart. Elektra, you see, doesn't have any candy - she has to make do. "Here, have a knife!" Deadpool flips a knife through the air in a lazy arc, the handle fairly floating in front of Elektra. Once Question joins their formation, Deadpool slashes a wide opening in front of him, katanas leaving glimmering arcs of sanguine to arc through the air. "Or, y'know, whatever, feel free to keep dismembering people." Deadpool sidles up to Q. "Man, did you /see/ that? That was crazy. She just ripped that dude in half. Hey, cover me, willya?" Deadpool sheathes his katanas, then grabs Q by the scruff of his collar and the back of his belt. "Stand back! I've got Ninja Dick Tracy, here, and I'm not afraid to use him!" Deadpool promptly swings Q in a wide circle, letting The Question become The Bat, and knocking a few Hand aside as if they were bowling pins. "Hey, did you seriously just attack those ninjas with a handful of lemon drops?" asks the first person to ever say that in the history of mankind. Deadpool twirls Q around to cover his flank and promptly swings a pair of automatic pistols forward, cutting a swath through the nearest rank of The Hand. "Oh man, this is epic! What did I tell you guys about the Inverse Ninja law?!" He pauses then, for a moment, and considers. Hmm. If the power level of a ninja is inversely proportional to the number of ninjas, then these guys are all mooks. But if /we're/ outnumbering everyone, then /we/ are becoming the collective ninja. Can someone go check out tvtropes.org and see what the rules are for ninja squads? "Hang on a sec, guys. I gotta look something up on the interwebs." Deadpool actually stops fighting for a minute and whips out a cell phone and starts looking at tvtropes.org. "Hey, fellow Canadian!" he shouts at Logan. "Whose nationality I'm inferring! Would you classify yourself as a ninja or samurai?" The ninja who aren't quick enough to reform fall to shattered ghosts of ash around Wolverine, his blitzkrieg hardly ending with his touchdown. Katana and sai, even whirling kusari-gama do little to slow the feral mutant and his clawed onslaught. His worn ensemble is torn, gashes of varying depth drawn a dozen times over during the nigh-frenzied swath, little concern shown for his own wellbeing compared to dropping Hand in one of the swiftest shows of sheer, bloody attrition known (or, by and large unknown) to man. Not much of Logan's blood leaks; the wounds that are opened close fast, skin and muscle knitting together defiantly, inexorably. The same can't be said for the ninja who dealt the blows. There's the scarcest pause to the controlled carnage to exchange a nod with Snake Eyes; it's almost in tandem, the Wolf's fierce gaze locking on the silent, eyeless ninja. He crosses over to the operative's back to push up the opposite flank, pressing ninja towards one side of the rooftop as Snake Eyes assaults the other, the commandos splitting the ranks in a deadly, diverting dervish of flashing steel. "Just yer token gaijin, bub." A paired daisho falls into neatly shorn pieces, flaking to soot as Wolverine lunges through the literally broken guard with lethal intent: there's scarcely time to pause and reflect on the familiarity of the three operatives seemingly at the heart of this Hand assault. Or that at least one or two of them appear to be stark raving mad. The Question is feeling outclassed, despite Deadpool's wild theory about the Conversation of Ninjitsu. When the voice reaches his ears and Elektra gives that laugh, The Question knows he was right - the Beast is coming. Turning his sightless gaze on Elektra he says "By process of elimination, you must be The Betrayer. How can we hel--?" The Question is interrupted as Deadpool swings him around like a weapon. After the first few ninja go down, he starts pumping his legs, and incredulously performs the Bicycle Kick on the Hand as Deadpool arcs him around. When the move is done, The Question straightens his tie and coat. "Yes," he replies about the candy. He sounds even more hoarse then his usual muffled tone. That took something out of him. He takes off his hat with one hand and drags his sleeve across his forehead to wip away unseen sweat before putting the fedora back on. "We are still defending her! He shouts to the empty air. "If the crazy one is right, you had better come forth yourself!" The Question calling someone crazy. Who is the Pot? Who is the Kettle? There's a koan for you. Snake Eyes needs no information on anything past or present about the Hand and their target. However long he was watching before he joined in is being coupled with the fact that he's paying a lot of attention to things as he fights alongside the group focused on pushing back and taking down the Hand. He even catches sight of Elektra and her heart snatching tactics. But there is nothing that comes from the emotionless mask that hides the face of the Snake Eyes. He simply observes. The working with Wolverine is an exercise in Brutal and Graceful Fury, as the two of them are clearly using their own styles to take down Hand after Hand after Hand. There is a scarce moment that Snake Eyes is not upon an evil ninja without some part of his body, his katana or one of his guns. As he spins off another dusted kill, he hurls a number of shimmering discs off towards the edge of the rooftop, where Hand get caught in the face and are sent back down, hopefully taking some more with them. Snake Eyes merely listens to everything else that may be going on, in terms of what this could all be leading up to. He also hears sirens, but unlike some others, he does not need to fear them or disappear. He is a sanctioned military soldier, after all. He kicks one particular Hand in the gut, spinning and taking him down with a knee, turning his body to see the rushing of another. And suddenly a handful of yellow dust comes from the palm of Snake Eyes, hindering said Hand ninja for a half second. Just enough time for Snake Eyes to slice him down. Improvisational Weapon Addition: Crushed Lemon Drops. The flung blade is caught with casual ease, Elektra snatching the offered weapon, and immediately plunging it into the eye of another attacker. The ballet of death is a beautiful one - at least, it is to her. With the screaming sirens, she had been considering escape - but now the tide is turning, she cannot help but enjoy this, at least a little bit. Later, she might reflect on that - that murdering these people she would once have considered her brethren is the most uplifting experience she has had in months, perhaps years. But not right now - right now, there is the slaughter, and it is one she takes to well. Snake Eyes and Wolverine are a truly terrifying team, and together, the pair decimate the majority of the remaining Hand. Those that are not killed by them, are cut down by Deadpool and Elektra. When the tide turns, it turns quickly, and with each ninja slashed to ribbons, the dark voice grows weaker, until it is an angry dream; a soundless fury; a half-imagined presence, and then nothing at all. Elektra is drenched in blood and sweat - and for once, some of the blood is even her own, which is unpleasant. There is an eerie silence on the rooftop, only slightly marred by the closeness of the sirens - which of course, have only been getting closer. She drops the knife, and sheathes her sai back at her waist. Although she looks to each of the four men in turn, it is The Question that her eyes fall upon. "The Beast has no body." She states, "Not yet. And it won't, whilst I draw breath." For a moment, it looks like she's going to say more, but she stops herself, and shakes her head. Just a tiny shake. Should she thank them? ... Probably. But she doesn't. The sirens are very, very close now. So instead, Elektra takes a step backwards - her eyes settling on Logan... and then she fades from view. Just the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. And then, as mysteriously as she had arrived in this city, she is gone. Leaving only a rooftop full of ash in her wake. "Well, that was anticlimactic." Deadpool harrumphs and holsters his guns, nudging his toe through a pile of ash. "And talk about ingratitude! Usually, when you show up and /rescue/ a chick, she's all 'Deadpool, you're the best!' and 'Deadpool, you're so hot!' and 'Deadpool, make sweet love to me!'" The Merc with the Mouth claps Q on the shoulder. "Dude, you were /awesome/. That whole thing with the lemon drops? Classic." Deadpool looks at Snake Eyes and Logan. "You guys were ok, too. I think I had an action figure when I was twelve, of you," he muses at Snake Eyes. "And you must be the Wolverine," he says, pointing at Logan. "No one else I know has claws like that." Most prey, even skilled as they are, would be terrified by this point; breaking formation, leaping off the rooftops, scrambling for their lives in the face of the terrible, cresting wave that roils with the turning of the tide. The Hand are conditioned, however: tireless, fearless; all but inhuman, now. More mystic indoctrination than man, their minds mangled and reforged into a frightful tool... of the Beast. They do not break, they do not know fear, or show it-- but they do perish amidst bloodied blades in a last stand that no one will tell a story of, and the cops will puzzle over for years. It takes a moment for the haze of red to fade from his eyes, for the scents of allies to register. "Small favors, right?" Logan muses at first, at Elektra's enigmatic warning. It's playing it off, making light, but Wolverine's eyes hold nothing but pensive consternation as he stoops to pick up his hat; now missing half a brim. He settles it back over his mug, smirking darkly towards Deadpool long enough to snap both sets of claws back into his arms.. and for Elektra to make with the disappearing act. "Wai.." he doesn't bother finishing it-- she's not going to flamin' listen anyway. ".. An' what's your stock in this, then?" He asks, walking towards the edge where Elektra vanished and sniffing thoughtfully at the air, not looking back to indicate which-- if not all-- of the three he questions.. if not just himself The Question turns his blnk face up at the falling ash like a kid in the snow. "I think we won," he intones. He pulls the drawing of a demon out of his pockets and holds it out to the group. "She was telling us that to summon the Beast, they had to kill her. They failed. Thanks to us? Perhaps." He folds up the picture as he looks at Deadpool. "I have never been called awesome before." The Question looks around at the odd grouping - especially the silent one in black - the very picture of a Western pop culture special ops 'ninja'. And The Question thought _he_ was East meets West. As Deadpool mention's Logan's codename, The Question gives him a nod "I was her to see if the Beast was real or just a story. Now I know." The Question looks at Snake Eyes for a long moment, blank face to blank face. Then he sliently touches the brim of his hat and nods. Yellow smoke envelops him. When it clears , The Question is gone. On the roof where he stood the drawing is now an oragami sai. Perhaps Snake Eyes actually lingers long enough to nod at each of those that remained for a moment. He has nothing to say or add, though he does pull up his arm and his fingers dance over the Gauntlet that is there, sending a message back to whomever air dropped him into this location in the first place. He nods once again to anyone that may still be around, before he sheathes his Katana and leaps backwards, flipping himself off the roof and probably off into the ether. Or at least down to a vehicle that is probably waiting so that he can make with the exiting. Category:Log